Names
by Metaphors and Miracles
Summary: Find out what goes through his mind as he switches from one name to another, from one persona to another. I can't say much without ruining the story.
**I do not own death note or the characters mentioned in the anime and manga. So basically if you know the character then I don't own him/ her.**

 **Names**

He dried his newly dyed hair with a towel. After throwing the now wet towel, he grabbed a hair brush lying in the sink and brushed strands of hair towards his scalp creating a messy hairstyle which solely depended on his hair pointing out in different directions. He dragged his bare feet as he walked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

* * *

 _Brian, a young blonde boy, sat in a black car with his hand tightly holding a sturdy man's hand. The boy's wide smile would convince people that he was not recently orphaned. He didn't care for putting up an act for he was free, free from his drunken father who would beat him up whenever realizing that his life was rotting and he needed to boost his pride. Now he was finally free and could be happy. The car stopped and he decided to look up at the caring blue eyes which were owned by the same man holding his hand._

 _Brian felt comfort in knowing that he would spend the rest of his life with someone so caring; it would be just Wammy and himself. He felt so content until he saw a short figure with distinguishable black unruly hair peering at them from the house's door._

 _Wammy's stern look distracted him from the stranger by the door. Wammy gripped his shoulders and spoke in a serious tone._

 _"Brian, from now on you will go by an alias, B"_

* * *

He went through his closet and dressed in the recently stolen white long-sleeved shirt and loose faded-blue jeans. He knew these items would not be missed but they wouldn't go unnoticed, that was his intention.

* * *

 _B ran to the bulletin board which held the aliases of the only three children currently residing at the Wammy's house in an order from the top to bottom grades. It wouldn't seem as an accomplishment to most to see that they have beaten two other people, but it would be an achievement for B to see Wammy proud of him. He found a boy carelessly dressed in a white shirt and jeans loitering in the halls and he just happened to be blocking his view of the grades. The casually dressed boy soon moved away to find something to hold his interest giving B a clear visual of the names on the bulletin board. All his anticipation and hope was replaced by a frown, when he saw his alias sandwiched between two other._

 _B ran towards his teacher's office where the month's test grades were kept. He walked in keeping his composure and sat on a seat by her desk expectantly while he smoothed out his unwrinkled uniform of suit pants and a green sweater. She unlocked one of her desk's drawers and produced a readied file of all his grades from the past month. This had become their routines, a repetition of events that always left him unsatisfied. He skimmed though his perfect scores until he came across a 99. This grade caused his face to scrunch in distaste ergo losing his self-control. This one grade, this horrible grade, had caused him to become second. He was a successor, a replacement for if the original ever broke. He was a Backup._

* * *

He cringed as his bare feet touched his room's cold uncarpeted floor but that didn't stop him from walking towards his dresser's mirror. He sat with his knees to his chest on a chair beside his dresser. His sitting position was a habit that would surely ruin his posture in no time.

* * *

 _Backup stared enviously at the scrunched up boy by Wammy's side. Wammy gave his undivided attention to the boy while the boy happily ate a large strawberry cake. It was Halloween, his birthday, both their birthdays._

 _Backup was dressed as Frankenstein, which seemed as a perfect costume with his seamlessly straight posture. The boy on the other hand, did not wear a costume finding it a nuisance. In Backup's opinion, the boy didn't need a costume as his looks and the way he sat made him seem as though he was a child demon straight out of a scary movie._

 _Backup spared the boy one last deadly glance before he stubbornly walked to the kitchen. He opened the fridge finding no complete meal and so he settled for an unopened jar of jam. He angrily opened the jar and slid his fingers into the jam in an act of rebellion, against who exactly he did not know. He licked his fingers taking in every clump of strawberry jam on them. The feeling of something wet and slimy on his fingers was surprisingly calming and did much to cool him down. What did he care for birthdays? A birthday was an immature tradition which celebrated the only thing people truly knew about themselves. He was beyond this stupid tradition. He was Beyond Birthday._

* * *

His room was dark for he needed minimum sunlight to maintain his skin's newly abnormal white complexion, though it was not white enough. He ungracefully opened an expensive looking brown bag decorated with the initials _L_ V; he had stolen the bag from a stuck up woman at the mall. He held the bag from its base and dropped all its items onto his dresser; which already had some old Akazukin Chacha mangas and tons of opened strawberry jam jars. He rummaged through the stuff, throwing away her phone, wallet and car keys until the only object from the bag that lay in front of him was a small plastic bag, a makeup bag. He began to apply a white liquid onto his face making his skin a shade lighter, white enough. He then dabbed a dark black powder around his eyes while concentrating the powder at some places to create deep creases.

* * *

 _Beyond Birthday watched a young woman with long black hair and hazel eyes from an undetected distance. She stood holding a cup of coffee close to her lips and trying to hide the fact that she was clearly irritated for having to wait for someone extremely late. He smiled at her irritation and hid his wrists' smooth milky skin, which he failed to cover up earlier, before walking towards her._

 _"You're late" she said once he was relatively close to her._

 _"Well hello to you too, Naomi Misora" he replied unaffected by her anger._

 _Her eyes narrowed at him as he walked by but soon gave up her useless anger and followed him._

 _"Has your recruiter given you any useful analyzation of the murder of Quarter Queen?" He asked neutrally, whilst trying to hide the curiosity he truly felt._

 _They both had been working on this murder case. The first murder was Believe Bridesmaid which was wounded with roman numeral code spelling out the next victim's name ergo linking both victims. It was the fact that the murderer had drugged his victims and went into extreme lengths to present them in a way to provoke someone which caught the detectives' attention. The murderer was very skilled and left no amateur signs that would give them a lead; well what did they expect it was Beyond Birthday's handy work after all._

 _She visibly sighed in frustration._

 _"Well the last time I spoke to him to discuss the murder, he seemed intrigued but had nothing new to add to what we already know" She explained._

 _That was exactly like him, Beyond Birthday thought. His bags and extremely white complexion would give anyone the impression that he was constantly working but in reality all he did was eat sweets._

 _Naomi tapped Beyond Birthday's shoulder while calling his name, helplessly trying to get his attention. He smiled in content of knowing that his plan was going well for she and everyone else had been calling him "Rue Ryuzaki."_

* * *

He stared at himself in the mirror. Almost perfect. He opened a container that held two hollow circular plastics with black orbs in the middle of each. He applied the plastics on his eyes and smiled. Perfect.

Most people would assume that he went through all this trouble to follow in his 'role models' footsteps. Said people would assume he was a mere fan. They were wrong. He did this to receive Wammy's love, his undivided attention. His only hope in receiving love from a father figure was taken away from him. If changing his looks was all it took to get approval and undivided attention he would do so in a blink of an eye, and he did.

He inhaled sounding like a man taking his dying breath, then his voice started to crack and he inhaled once more; this continued in a random pattern as his voice got deeper and louder. He was laughing. The black messy hair, the plain clothes, the horrible posture, the pale complexion and dark under-eye bags, and the black colored eyes; he was finally _L._

* * *

 **So, what did you think? This is my second attempt at trying to explain one of Death Note's abnormal characters. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated.**


End file.
